Legacy Haunting
by Angel Gidget
Summary: Some fears remain long after the threat is gone. Here lies a glimpse of what the world is like after the threat of Legacy Virus is removed. Featuring Rogue, Remy, and Hank.


[Author's Note:] For any of you who have never read this story before, it is pretty much the same as I left it, except that the mistakes reguarding names and New Orleans have been revised. This fic was inspired by Cris-X for his post-acceptance of mutants story and Karen Sedai-Kibou-no-tenshi (I *know* I misspelled that) who was the first that I'd seen to think that it was Gambit who would have wanted a girl and Rogue who would have wished for the son. And finally, I want to thank Randirogue for her incredibly long review and pointers on what needed changing in this story.  
  
[Disclaimer:]Technically, these characters are owned by a company. A company is comprized of people. I doubt that even the company would prefer me to list all the people that comprize it. That would leave a few options open. Suffice to say, they do not belong to me, because I am not part of the comprization of that said comprized company. Technical enough for you?  
  
LEGACY HAUNTING  
  
One year into their marriage, and the mutant woman known as Rogue was already pregnant. Marie and Remy LeBeau had decided that if they wished to start a family, they should start the moment they were ready. Family had not been denied them in their lives as X-men, but there was still that aching need to start one of their own.  
  
She wasn't showing yet, but she laughed as she felt the tiny kick of her child within her womb. Or rather, it had encouraged her to smile. The laugh itself, arose from the sight of her husband.  
  
It had begun with one of those insane cravings for strange food. But instead of it occurring late in the night, where a refrigerator was present to satisfy the need, it happened dead center of the French Quarter of New Orleans in mid-shopping spree. Remy, in hopes of a respite from carrying his wife's purchases, offered a place to rest at the nearest ice-cream shop.  
  
She had ordered 3 scoops. One mint, one pistachio, one bubble gum; topped with a raspberry topping and gummi bears. Remy settled from some old-fashioned vanilla. Thus they broke into a deeply philosophical conversation on the meaning of ice cream, while sitting on the edge of a newly-built stone water fountain.  
  
"So, Chere," Remy began, "Can ya t'ink o' anyt'in more true t'life dan a scoop o' dis stuff?"  
  
"Cajun," came her reply, "If you're tryin' ta tell me that every time Ah give inta the urge ta eat somethin', it'll come back to me on my thighs; Ah'm gonna tell ya to go 'splash' in a river."  
  
The man known also as Gambit knew that to anger this woman before him was not in his best interests, but he was still cranky from lack of sleep; and as a result, was not thinking clearly.   
  
"Not sayin' ya shouldn' indulge yaself, mon coeur, only dat ya shouldn' drag Remy int' it all de time. Like wakin' dis poor cajun at 2:30 las' night!"  
  
"Same thing!" protested his southern bell.  
  
He felt the need to defend himself. "Non. Gorgin' yaself on ice cream is ya business, but wakin me up at 2:30 in de mornin' is jus--Aaaagghh!"  
  
She had endured enough of his whining had had pushed him into the water fountain. It wasn't a river, but it did the job. That was when she felt the child kick, and had so proceeded to laugh.  
  
She looked over his drenched form once more. Regaining her composure, she stood up.   
  
"Ya know, Sugah, Ah got a lot o' energy from all o' those calories! What say Ah race ya to the Cafe du Monde? Ready, set, go!" And she was off like a bullet.  
  
Looking behind her, she saw that she had lost her husband in the distance. At least for the moment. Knowing the city like the back of his hand, Remy would soon catch up to her, and that would be the end of her fun. So why not make it harder for him?  
  
Looking over her shoulder, she spotted the trolly. Joining the ever-growing sea of people, she proceeded up the steps of the vehicle. When the door opened, she hopped on. But she didn't go far, there was no point in driving Remy frantic. She simply bided her time in the alleyway, walking along a ways from the street.  
  
On her stroll, she discovered a strange sight. She was in the a darker portion of the city now, and had to be careful not to stray too far from where the the crowds were.. But it was here that the alley began to wind. It was an adjacent alley, but there was not sign of life. She wandered into it.   
  
She was almost immediately repelled by the stench. It smelled as though some animal had died in the place. But something caught her eye. They were pieces of fabric and a few scattered pieces of food huddled by a set of old trash cans. There was also a small set of silverware. It appeared that some one had lived in there. Or...that someone had *died* in there.  
  
Before moving to investigate further, she looked over her shoulder to see a faint movement in the distance. Unless she wanted to meet one of the locals of this depressing place, she needed to get back to whence she came. And so she rushed back.  
  
Glad to see upon reaching her destination, that the sun still shown brightly outside, she promptly stepped back out into the quarter.  
  
"GOTCHA!"  
  
A sopping wet pair of arms encircled her and held her close to an equally sopping wet trenchcoat-covered chest.  
  
"Now **cherie**, ya should know better dan t'go scarin' Gambit like dat! Ya give him a heart attack, an' leave yaself and de **petite** wit'out a means of support."  
  
She laughed once more and took his lips prisoner with her own. They entered their own world. Their hearts held fast to one another as their bodies gathered up their shopping bags and moved on to their car and headed home. They allowed themselves to forget all else, concerning themselves with neither insults nor ice cream. With neither water fountains nor dark passages....  
  
X X X X End Part I  
  
"Nnnngh..."  
  
"Chere?"  
  
"Ah...Ah'll be alright, Remy. It's a passin' pain."  
  
"You certain o' dat, ma coure?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Has it anytin' ta do wit' de chile?"  
  
"N..no. No, Ah don't think so."  
  
"Not ta doubt ya word, Chere, but ya don't min' if I call Hank anyway, do ya?"  
  
About to protest, another force of pain shot through her system, forcing her to shake her head.  
  
Remy LeBeau frowned in worry. It had been a week since Rogue's little game of hide-and-seek in the French Quarter, and he couldn't think of any other strange occurance that might compel his wife to act this way.  
  
They had returned to their home in the Garden District. Marie had seemed distracted for the rest of the day, and a little tired ever since, but if she had been feeling any pain till now, she had kept it well hidden. Very well hidden, considering all the thieve's awareness her husband possessed.  
  
"Hank?" He had rung up the blue doctor.  
  
"Yes, my accadian comrade?"  
  
"I be bringin' Rogue up to Westchester, will ya run some tests f'us?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
It was a matter of hours till they reached to med lab. It was more hours still till McCoy came out. The hours allowed Remy's anxiety to build and his mind to wonder. What if Marie had a miscarriage? What if the baby was sick? Or had a dangerous mutation? What if Rogue's powers were returning to her, even after losing them so long ago in Madripoor?  
  
He realized he was pacing and ceased the moment the doors of the Med Lab opened. The blue Beast walked out with a small computer print-out containing stats of his wife's medical health. The doctor was frowning, but it was a frown of discomfort, of his squinting to read without the use of his reading glasses.  
  
"Well, Hank," inquired the former X-man, "How is she?"  
  
"She has Legacy Virus, Remy."  
  
An icy glove squeezed Remy's heart. Legacy? Legacy that would slowly torchure her? Slowly kill her, as it stole away their only child? This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to have a small cramp, and nothing more. Instead, she'd die? Leave him all alone again? Remy felt his breath leave him, as one punched in the gut.  
  
And what about Hank? Why wasn't he crying? Why wasn't he screaming like the Cajun was inside. Instead he just stood there, chattering away as though everything were normal...   
  
"...normal. Remy? You *are* listening, are you not? She'll need a week of bed-rest here before she goes home..."  
  
Remy started back to reality. There was no threat. Legacy had been cured long ago. All she would need would be a small shot and a bit of rest before going back to New Orleans. Remy breathed a sight of relief, and then stopped himself.  
  
"Will it affect de petite?"  
  
"Your child? I should think not, unless she still has the virus when the child is born. And even so, her effective extinguishment of her once-existing X-gene..."  
  
Remy had heard enough. By now, Beast's rambling had gone beyond the Cajun's everyday vocabulary, and the doctor had already put the man's fears to rest. He went in to see his wife.  
  
"Remy?"  
  
"Chere?"  
  
"Looks like Ah'm gonna be stuck here for a while, Sugah."  
  
"You get de shot already, mon amour?"  
  
"Yup. Hank knew ya wouldn't want him ta wait."  
  
He moved to her side. He gently rubbed her belly as she leaned back.  
  
"Y'know, by de time she grows up, they'll probably be no such t'ing as a Legacy Virus."  
  
"Oh, *he* will probably read about it in history books. An' it's not like Hank's gonna let *him* or anyone else, for that mattah, forget it."  
  
"*She*, mon dearest."  
  
"*He*, mon amour."  
  
"S'gonna be a girl, Rogue."  
  
"S'gonna be a boy, Rem."  
  
He opened his mouth to continue the debate....but she was already asleep.  
  
X X X X End Part II  
  
Three weeks later, Henry McCoy observed the police report. The infected section of the New Orleans alleyway had been removed of dead organic material and steralized of all potential virus threat.  
  
He had called the LeBeau residence to assure his friends that their child, when born, would be fully safe in travelling his or her way by means of the New Orleans streets. He chuckled as he set down the phone.  
  
He knew that waiting tone in LeBeau's voice. He had been waiting for Hank to offer doing an ultra-sound. Their baby's gender was something that McCoy was beginning to wonder himself, but he knew how much the parents enjoyed arguing over it--and thus--had not offered.  
  
He looked back to the report. Apparently, an infected mutant had been homeless and had made his shelter in that free space in the garbage. There, he had died and rotted, leaving the virus there for Rogue to contract.  
  
Beast shook his head. The Legacy Virus was now on equal terms with the flu or types of fevers. It wasn't to be left alone, but was curable by a simple vaccination. What bothered McCoy, was that the disease still existed at all. Revanche, Illyana, and others continued to haunt him at the sound of the virus' name.  
  
He looked to Mrs. LeBeau's medical report. In a few month's time, she would be back for him to deliver a healthy child into the world. The child would eventually grow to be a mutant, and it would have teachers to show him or her the wonders of their abilities. It would have loving parents to care for it, and helpful teachers to show it to it's destiny. In a world where mutants didn't have to struggle quite so hard... in a world where the Legacy Virus was little more than a half-forgotten memory.  
  
X X X X End Part III  
  
FIN  
  
[Author's Note:] Please know that since you have had the pleasure of reading it, it's only fair that I recieve the pleasure of your reviewing it. 


End file.
